


An Abridged Christmas

by Zaraxae



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh the Abridged Series
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4434911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaraxae/pseuds/Zaraxae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seto Kaiba finds himself throwing a Christmas party. A Christmas party planned by his preteen brother. All of the neighborhood crazies are invited, and there might be hard drugs in the punch bowl. What else could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Abridged Christmas

As the holidays marched ever-closer, everyone prepared in their own ways. Seto Kaiba gained an increasingly desperate glint in his eye and plunged into his work with new enthusiasm, while Mokuba Kaiba gained an increasingly manic glint and took to carrying a clipboard wherever he went. He had commandeered the elder Kaiba’s neo-nazi blimp guards as assistants, and their trademark screeching of “HEIL KAIBA!” rang through the halls as often as Christmas carols.

 

\-----

 

In the Mutou household, Yugi practically overflowed with Christmas cheer. Yami had been slow to adjust to the new holidays of the time, and it took Yugi several hours of late-night Christmas specials to explain the holiday to him. 

“So this Santa isn’t real, right?”

“Yes, Pharaoh, he was just invented for small children.”

“Good. Only shadow magic could allow him to deliver all those presents in one night, and I won’t allow someone like that in this house.”

Yugi looked increasingly pained as similar discussions abounded in the weeks of December.

\------

 

Surprisingly, things were much calmer in the Ishtar household. As traditionally Egyptian as they were, they made a few pathetic attempts at hanging wreaths outside their house then went back to business. Marik refused to go outside, because the cold disgusted him and for some reason people giggled and stared if he went out attired properly for the weather. Ishizu had tried to explain through her own suppressed laughter, but the word ‘cute’ kept popping up, so Marik was fairly sure she had been talking about a puppy in the background or something.

Melvin still came home covered in suspicious stains, but now occasional slips of his clothing revealed ubiquitous crumpled brown bags. Deciding that out of sight was out of mind, and that if you didn’t know anything, a mind-reading ancient Pharaoh couldn’t pry it out of you by magical means, the rest of the Ishtar clan simply turned a blind eye.

 

\--------

Yugi’s group of friends were, to varying degrees, ecstatic about the holidays. As a Christmas gift, Duke had agreed to stop hitting on Serenity.

“Because, Tristan, your love for her burns so brightly that my affections are but a candle to your forest fire! Go, my friend, for I speak truly. Go and get the girl,” the dice master declared dramatically from atop the kitchen table, fists clenched theatrically.

Tristan was out of earshot before Duke finished the sentence, which was fortunate, because the others could no longer restrain their merriment.

“Ah, God,” gasped Joey, “he honestly thought ya were after Serenity.”

“Well,” Tèa interjected, “I suppose love blinds us all.”

“You’d have to be pretty blind to miss the earring, the makeup, the theme music, and the hair!” Mai sniggered. 

The good-natured ribbing continued until Tristan sprinted back inside the house, blushing and ecstatic, practically tackling Joey in his excitement.

“I HAVE A DATE WITH YOUR SISTER!” 

Joey gave a dangerous smile.

“As your friend, congratulations man! As Serenity’s brother…” he sat Tristan down forcibly and towered over him, baring his teeth emphatically. “If you hurt a hair on her head, if you so much as dampen her good mood even once, I will hunt you down and kill you. No, scratch that. I will beat you to within an inch of your life, then lock you into a closet with Melvin. So, do you still have a date with my sister?”

“Y-yes. W-wouldn’t w-want to d-disappoint h-her.” Tristan stammered and shivered, trying avoid the hellfire reflected in his best friend’s eyes.

“Of course not,” Joey finished warmly, turning around and marching back to his seat.

“Well,” Mai drawled, “hell hath no fury like a protective older brother.”

 

\-----—

 

The minute December had arrived, Ryou had decked the house in every form of tinsel, wreath, garland and tree known to man. Bakura had assisted admirably by huddling under a blanket on the couch and spouting sarcastic remarks, which Ryou’s Christmas cheer had promptly deflected. 

It was, Bakura noted, a dreary season indeed. Melvin had something in the works, and so could no longer provide backup for Bakura’s larger robberies, and anyway, Ryou had somehow managed to extract a promise not to break the law for the entire month of December. Bakura suspected it had something to do with the boy’s Santa hat and liquid brown puppy eyes. Marik refused to leave his house, citing some rubbish about the cold and giggling strangers. A quiet word with Ishizu had revealed that Marik apparently looked heartbreakingly adorable in puffy, fluffy winter gear. Ishizu had then kicked him out. The daughter of a long line of tombkeepers, she appreciated tomb robbers a great deal less than the next guy.

“Ryou...” he whined. Wait. That wasn’t right.

“Ryou...” he growled. Threateningly.

“Yes, Yami?”

“I’m bored. I’d almost be glad of that stupid holiday party you mentioned. When is that?”

Ryou beamed, absolutely thrilled that his temperamental yami was getting into the holiday spirit.

“It’s Sunday. Today is Friday. And tomorrow, I’m going to need you to help with some last minute Christmas shopping. Is there anyone you want to shop for?”

“No. I’m giving Melvin one of my switchblades, and I’ve already got plenty of those.”

Ryou frowned. “What about Marik? You two were partners, and he’s your friend now.”

Bakura snorted. Ryou let the issue go.

 

\------

 

Sunday morning came far too soon for Seto Kaiba. Even such an avid early riser was tempted to stay in bed and watch the snow drift past his window, but he had a sneaking suspicion that if he didn’t appear downstairs at promptly 6:45, Mokuba would employ dirty tactics. At best, he risked a bash to the head from his tyrannical younger brother’s clipboard. 

His suspicions were confirmed by Mokuba’s morning salutation.

“There you are big brother. I was just about to come shake you out of bed. Now, everything is ready for the party. Guests arrive at noon, all deliveries are accounted for, all decorations are up. Here, put this on.” He waved one of his neo-nazi assistants forward, and the man presented the elder Kaiba with a fluffy Santa hat. When Seto made no move to take the hat, choosing instead to gaze at it perplexedly, the wretched thing was shoved into his hands with an enthusiastic “HEIL KAIBA!”.

“I’m not wearing this, Mokuba.” When his complaint was met with a sweet smile, Seto knew he was in trouble.

“Why yes, big brother, you are. I’m open to compromise or bargaining, but you are going to wear the hat.”

Seto was one of the most stubborn people in the world, and he knew it, but Mokuba had gotten his share of the Kaiba pigheadedness as well. Seto knew there were such things as no-win scenarios, and this was one. Well, he might as well get something out of it.

“I will wear this—this, thing as long as, and no longer than, the Mutt wears reindeer ears.” 

Mokuba smirked and produced a pair of reindeer ears from behind his back. “I thought you might say that.”

Seto groaned. It was going to be a very long day.

 

\-------

 

By eleven, all three residents of the Mutuo household were ready for the party. Yami and Yugi were wearing black dress shirts, and if Yami was still wearing skintight leather pants, at least they were his formal leather pants, likely because he still hadn’t managed to retrieve his favorite pair from Bakura and Marik. Over their party clothes, Grampa had bundled them both up against the cold, which sat better with Yugi than it did Yami, who had been forced into a pair of fuzzy earmuffs despite his epic pouting maneuver. He had to admit they were warm, but sound was strangely muffled and he suspected they weren’t very dignified.

At 11:15, they piled into the car and prepared to brave holiday traffic accompanied only by the sound of Bing Crosby and Grampa’s road rage. Yugi hummed along to the music happily and played with his scarf while Yami huddled in the fetal   
position and prayed for all he was worth. 

\----

The Ishtars’ departure would have been smooth and easy had it not been for Marik’s inner diva. Ishizu had effortlessly bullied Odion and Melvin into appropriate dress and subjected the whole family to the Manners Lecture, but Marik’s unusual sense of fashion had reasserted itself at the last minute. 

Living in a shapeless unisex robe for most of his life had deprived Marik of a sense of boy’s vs. girl’s clothing. This manifested itself when he tried to leave the house in a festive miniskirt. Ishizu had Odion physically prevent him from leaving, then settled down on the couch for a talk.

“The package said ‘festive’,” Marik complained, “this is an occasion on which it is appropriate to be festive, is it not?”

“Well, yes,” Ishizu conceded, “but Marik, that is a skirt. Girls wear skirts, not boys.”

“Skirt?” Marik demanded, “If anything, this is a kilt. Boys wear kilts.”

Ishizu gritted her teeth and marched onwards.

“That is a skirt. A very inappropriate skirt, too. Look, Marik, we’re going to be late, so I’ll compromise. Wear some nice pants and I’ll let you get away with the shirt.”

Marik’s eyes widened indignantly.

“What in Ra’s name is wrong with my shirt?” 

Ishizu’s eyes narrowed.

“Odion, we need to go. Melvin, go get in the car. I’ll grab some pants, Odion can grab Marik. MOVE IT.”

Ishizu’s roar was not a thing to defy, and so before the echo of her shout faded, a struggling Marik was wrestled into the car by Odion and Ishizu stomped back outside carrying pants, which she promptly threw in Marik’s face. In complete silence, she started up the car and pulled into the street.

Marik was forced to change in the back, which he did under mild protest. At least he got to keep his shirt, a red version of his usual lavender belly-hoodie trimmed with fluffy white stuff, and with silver instead of gold chains. He thought it was rather nice, personally. He sighed. No one understood the beauty of his midriff.

 

\----

 

At ten, Mai began her rounds around town to pick up the gang. By eleven, five grumpy teenagers were slumped throughout the car. Five minutes later they stopped for coffee by general consensus. 

 

At 11:45, a car full of manically cheerful young people swerved dramatically into the Kaiba mansion’s parking lot. The last of the food and decorations had just been put into place, and their earliness earned them a useful tour of the mansion, courtesy of Seto, whose helpfulness was more due to a pressing need to escape the festivities than any real sense of graciousness.

 

They ended up in the now-completed party hall, which was a sight indeed. Massive sparkling garlands looped across the ceiling, fake snow cascaded over shining Christmas trees loaded down with shiny, tinkling ornaments, and tables laden down with every variety of Christmas sweet lined the walls. There was even a North Pole themed dueling arena, a necessity given the people who were attending. Mokuba had figured disrupting the party for duels was better than having guests end up in the shadow realm.

 

\----

 

If it was possible to slouch defiantly, Bakura was certainly a master at it. He directed his glare at Ryou, who was driving, and pouted when he realized he was being ignored in favor of the road. He slouched more and growled low in his throat. Ryou had confiscated their deck so that Bakura couldn’t start any shadow games, and forced Bakura to dress decently. Well, thought Bakura, at least I can rub it in the Pharaoh's face that we still have his leather pants. In all honesty, he was surprised that Marik had let him have the pants, but they really did look good on him, and Marik was not one defy the will of skintight garments.

 

Worst of all, there was no alcohol at the party, as only a few of the guests were legal, and drinking didn’t mix well with psychotic alter-egos. Bakura was especially resentful because at thousands of years old, he was most certainly legal. It was Ryou’s fault he wasn’t now.

 

\-------

 

Hefting the reindeer antlers in one hand, Mokuba confidently approached Joey. He was getting the boy into the ears if it was the last thing he did. His strategy was simple: appeal to Joey’s rivalry with Seto.

“Hey, Joey.”

“Hey Mokuba. Great party you’ve got going on here. I hear you arranged it.”

Mokuba beamed. “Yup. Seto’s not really the holiday sort. And speaking of Seto… How would you like to see him forced into a santa hat for the duration of the part”  
“What do I have to do?” Joey had a very special glint in his eye. Hook, line, sinker.

“I tried to convince him, and he said he’d do it if you wore reindeer antlers. He was betting I wouldn’t be able to convince you. You up for it?”

Almost before he finished the sentence the antlers had miraculously appeared on Joey’s head.

Mokuba gave a satisfied smirk, then turned and called innocently to his brother.  
“Setooooo. Lookie here!” He jabbed his finger at Joey as Seto blanched and looked around desperately for an escape. Finally, avoiding all eye contact, he slowly withdrew the hat from inside his trench coat and gingerly pulled it on.

After Joey’s laughter subsided, Mokuba cautioned him, “Remember, he only has to keep it on as long as you keep yours on.”

“No worries about that,” Joey snickered. “I don’t mind the antlers. I’m a festive guy. And the look on Kaiba’s face…”

Judging by the look on Seto’s face, the dueling arena would have seen its first use fairly quickly if it hadn’t been for Ryou and Bakura’s timely entrance. Ryou was positively beaming, Santa hat perched cutely on his snowy head. Bakura slouched grumpily behind him, murder glinting in his eyes. Somehow, he had consented to a bright red dress shirt, even if his pants were leather and rather clingy. Ryou was wearing a soft white sweater, and looked positively angelic. He seized Bakura’s hand and dragged him over to the group, fortunately blocking the line of sight between Seto and Joey.

“Happy Holidays, mates!” he declared, sitting down in the spot made for him on the couch.

Bakura was apprehended by Yami, who informed him that any trouble would be rewarded with a trip to the shadow realm. Bakura’s mouth was opening to say something unmentionable about Yami’s mother when their hikaris seemingly teleported between them.

“I said no trips to the shadow realm!” scolded Yugi. Yami rubbed his head, looking slightly abashed.

“But Yugi, he’s going to do something terrible. I just know it!”

“I wish,” retorted Bakura, “Ryou’s been on me about this all week. I’m banned from the Shadow realm too. And drinking. And fighting. And knives, and dueling, and threatening, and pickpocketing, and I can’t go anywhere near Kaiba’s vault. I just wanted to look at it,” he added defensively. 

Ryou sighed, shoved a cookie into his hand, and propelled him into a chair by the fire. 

“Stay here until the Ishtars come. I’m sure you can have some harmless fun with Marik and Melvin.”

As Ryou walked to the couch to rejoin the main group, Bakura redirected the unmentionable insult at his mother.

By the time the Ishtars had arrived, everyone was nibbling on a holiday confection, and everyone’s deck was laid out in front of them as their owners shared stories and swapped cards and strategies. Even Bakura had been included, as an agitated Ryou had brought the confiscated cards along in his pocket by accident. The couches and chairs had been dragged into a circle around the (mainly decorative) fire, and the guests sat within the circle except for Bakura, who was seated on a couch so as to be able to peer over Ryou’s shoulder more effectively as the boy spread out their deck. The macabre sight had half the gathering wincing, and provoked a concerned Tèa into a bout of questioning.

“Ryou,” she ventured, “why do you keep Bakura’s deck? Why not just give him the sicko cards and make your own deck?”

Ryou giggled. “This is my deck, Tèa. Bakura added most of the powerful magic cards, but most of these were mine to begin with. I don’t see why everyone is always so surprised—”

“I do,” Bakura broke in bluntly, “it’s because you’re a bloody pansy. You seem like the type to have some cutesy girly deck.”

He turned, addressing the group at large. 

“The kid also likes horror movies. Freakin’ loves ‘em. I’m just in them for the gore, but he goes in for the whole psychological thriller angle. If he wasn’t screwed up before I came along, he certainly is now.”

“Oh, Bakura, you’re such a bad influence on poor, sweet little Ryou,” purred a predatory voice from right behind Bakura. Everyone jumped except the thief, who refused to dignify the intruder with eye contact, choosing instead to offer a half-assed,  
“Hello, Melvin.”

“Just once I’d like to surprise you, binky-boy.”

“Stop bloody calling me that. And I’m the King of Thieves. No one sneaks up on me. Now, where are the rest of you people?”

Melvin swung himself over the back of the couch, landing on top of Bakura, who immediately shoved him onto the floor. Well, that was his intention. In reality, all he really accomplished was sentencing his hikari to death by Melvin.

Ryou was quite reasonably freaked out at having Melvin dumped on top of him, and began flailing and screaming bloody murder. Melvin immediately shifted so that he supported the majority of his weight, but made no real effort to get off of Ryou. Bakura was torn between his possessiveness of his hikari and his…not fear, of course, but his admitted reluctance to tangle with Melvin.

The situation, perched on the edge of a downward spiral, was, surprisingly, rescued by Marik, who vaulted over the couch—and Bakura—and landed beside Melvin and Ryou. He seized Melvin and wrestled him onto the couch, despite the yami’s token protests. Evil and born of purest hatred and darkness Melvin might be, but even he knew not to tangle with Marik when he was in a Mood. 

“MELVIN!” Marik shrieked right in his ear, “I know exactly what’s gotten into you, and you’re going to stop it right now, you hear me? If you absolutely must, try at least being nice first!”

Even if the Egyptian’s sudden appearance and earsplitting tirade hadn’t managed it, his attire caused jaws to drop all around the room. Even ignoring the slutty, ridiculous top (a difficult feat indeed) his pants were a sight to behold. Ishizu, angry as she was, had simply rummaged around in Marik’s pants drawer and seized the first pair of black pants she had found. Her mistake. The pants managed simultaneously to be incredibly low slung and ridiculously skintight. 

In short, Marik looked like a spectacularly whorish Ms. Claus.

“Marik,” Bakura began slowly, building up to the million-dollar question, “what in the world are you wearing?”

A spark of anger kindled in Marik’s eyes, and he leapt off of Melvin, sprang across the length of the couch, and punched Bakura on the cheek. It wasn’t particularly hard, but it was obviously painful.

“Marik…” Yami began warningly.  
“YOU SAID IT WAS A KILT. THAT WAS NOT A KILT, BAKURA. THAT WAS A SKIRT. A GIRLY SKIRT FOR A WOMAN, WHICH I AM NOT!”

Bakura was just opening his mouth to say something he’d regret for any number of reasons when Yugi broke in.

“Marik, calm down, have a cookie, and tell us what happened. Yami will make sure Bakura stays right where he is. Yami?”

Yami smirked his assent and moved to sit beside Bakura while Marik huffily accepted a cookie and moved away from the smirking thief. 

“I was looking for something festive to wear to the party last week, and Bakura was with me. That bastard managed to convince me that people wear festive kilts all the time, and that it was fine for it to be so short because I’m not a girl. Only, it turns out the thing was a friggin’ miniskirt. Which I didn’t realize until Ishizu pointed it out to me not an hour ago. So Bakura, what’s your excuse now?”

Under normal circumstances, at least half of the assembled would have been in stitches at the idea of Marik in a miniskirt, but his expression was so livid nobody felt like laughing. Actually, he currently bore an eerie resemblance to Melvin.

Ryou was intimidated enough to scoot onto the couch so that Bakura was between himself and Marik. And speaking of Melvin, the teen noticed that everyone’s favorite sandy-haired psychopath was presently making his rounds of all the food tables, hovering about each plate with his back to the rest of the guests. 

Something rustled beneath his clothing, and a fine mist seemed to temporarily appear above some sugar cookies. How odd, thought Ryou, it almost looks like he’s sprinkling sugar on them. But no, this is Melvin. I must be imagining it.

He returned his attention to the group to find Marik still glaring fiercely at Bakura while Yugi tried desperately to defuse the situation by convincing Bakura apologize. Bakura, of course was having none of it.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. It would have been funny, and he should know the difference between boy’s and girl’s clothing by now.” As if to show how little he cared, Bakura flopped backwards so his head hung off the couch. 

Marik looked at him and sighed, then stood up and sat down next to him. “Whatever,” he said, likely realizing he’d never get anything remotely approaching an apology from Bakura.

With their dispute at least officially over, the assembled returned to a semblance of normal behavior. Since everyone was more or less finished swapping cards, people began migrating to the food tables to pick over the selection and settle into private conversations. It was a great opportunity for everyone to meet people they had heard about but never seen, which led to a great many ‘interesting’ discussions. 

“Both you and your brother wear so much jewelry!” Mai exclaimed. “Are they family heirlooms?”

Ishizu laughed softly. “It’s mostly a traditional style of dress, but the tombkeepers have hoarded masses of ancient treasure for thousands of years with nowhere to spend or lose it, so we tended to throw around jewelry pretty freely. Marik and I are just used to it by now, and they remind us of home.”

Bakura, intrigued by Ishizu’s mention of ‘masses of hoarded treasure’, was quick to strike up a conversation with Odion about the architecture of tombs. Odion, though he refused to divulge anything sensitive, was quite knowledgeable on the subject of tombs, and he and Bakura entered into an animated debate.

“I’m just saying, I loved those tombs. Easiest things to get into since your mother’s pants.”

Odion glared. “Don’t mention my mother, thief.”

Above his shoulder, Marik shook his head frantically, jewelry glinting as it swung about his head, and mouthed ‘mommy issues’. Bakura let the subject drop, and Odion continued.

“But I don’t think you can say a tomb is ‘good’ because it’s easy to rob. Actually, I think quite the opposite should be true--”

Across the room, Ryou and Serenity were having a quiet conversation about nothing in particular. Ryou found that the sweet girl reminded him pleasantly of his own sister, and she was enjoying his gentle, platonic company. They were interrupted in due course by a seemingly contrite Duke and an exuberant Tristan, quickly followed by Joey, who glared at Tristan for sitting too close to Serenity, then at Ryou until Serenity stopped him.

Duke, surprisingly enough, was drawn off by Marik, who was interested to hear about Dungeon Dice Monsters. The two of them proceeded to occupy a large portion of the floor with a portable set, displacing Joey and Melvin, who had been conversing about having to protect an unsuspecting younger sibling.

“I mean really,” Joey ranted, “everyone thinks I’m being overprotective, but I’ve seen how Tristan looks at her! And she’s so innocent, she believes every word out of his mouth. Never even suspects it when someone’s hitting on her, which has been happening more and more lately!”

Melvin nodded sympathetically. “Marik’s the same way. I mean, yeah, we grew up in a tomb, but geez! He gets hit on a lot. He’s all...pretty, I guess, and he dresses like a slut, so I end up having to scare people off. And don’t even get me started on Bakura— ”

“Wait, Bakura?” Joey demanded, brow creased in confusion.

“Ha, you honestly didn’t notice? He’s sneaky, I’ll give him that, but I can see him checking out Marik. The miniskirt prank? Not a prank. It was a genuine attempt by Bakura to get Marik into a miniskirt. The problem is that he’s so damn smooth I can’t catch him at it. Not that I’d stop him, necessarily.”

“So Bakura’s...well, into Marik?”

“Yup.”

“Ya know, I suppose that makes some kinda sense. They have plenty in common, and they were partners during Battle City. I never figured Bakura for the type, but if he is, I can see him going after Marik.”

The two continued discussing tactics for deflecting perverts after that, as if the subject had never come up. 

As the guests socialized, Mokuba was putting phase two of his plan into action. He himself would admit it was juvenile, nefarious, and probably a terrible idea in the long run. He had, after extensive personal, ah, ‘research’, selected the best party games for forcing people into awkward situations with the person they liked, and he had long been keeping track of who liked who within their social circle.

You see, Mokuba had a hidden weakness: soap operas. After thousands of kidnappings, he had grown used to watching daytime television in his kidnappers’ lairs. This had led to a regrettable taste for soap operas and an unquenchable desire to play matchmaker, which culminated in the little stunt he was about to pull.

Stepping onto the raised dueling platform, the younger Kaiba brother raised two fingers to his lips and let out and earsplitting whistle. This was both a cue to the guards to bring in the games and a cue to the guests to shut the heck up.

Once his whistle had accomplished both, he raised his microphone, ignoring its earsplitting feedback, and issued his proclamation.

“It’s time for party games everyone! They are mandatory, and if you think I can’t make you, then you’ve never tried to defy a Kaiba. In any case, prepare to enjoy! We have four games, you’ll be rotating through them. First we have seven minutes and heaven, over by that closet. Second, spin the bottle, over there. Third, we have twister, in the back. And last, we have a strip version of duel monsters, the rules of which will be explained later. No more than four people per station, starting in five minutes. I hope everyone’s having a good time?”

The small crowd roared its assent, then good-naturedly began drifting towards the games. Seven minutes in heaven filled up almost instantly, being the least potentially awkward game. Seto, Mai, Joey, and Ishizu managed to claim the four available spots.

At the dueling arena, Melvin, Yami, Ryou, and Yugi had gathered, as only same-sex games were allowed according to the effeminate German manning the station. Ryou and Melvin paired up immediately, neither wanting to duel against either Yami or Yugi. They weren’t playing using duel disks or the arena, and their initial lifepoints were added up from how many articles of clothing they wore. Shirts and pants were 500 points, and any other accessory was 200, leaving Yami and Yugi evenly matched, while Melvin would obviously be far ahead of Ryou because of all his jewelry. 

At the spin the bottle station, desperately avoiding eye contact, were Bakura, Téa, and Tristan. Marik, spotting them, hurried over to join the game, only for Melvin to dash away from his station to grab his hikari’s shoulder. 

“You know, Marik, I’ve been planning this for a while. Ever notice that not many drug dealers hang around Domino anymore?”

Marik blanched, instantly making the connection with Melvin’s strange behavior over the past few weeks.

“You didn’t!” he hissed.

“Oh, but I did. Just a little something in the food, so no one noticed, but you know that punch you drank so much of? I dumped a shitload of something white and crystalline into it earlier. Not quite sure was it is, but I’m sure it’ll be fun for you.”

“I’m telling, you bastard!” Marik declared heatedly. Melvin only chuckled.

“If you do, I’m sure your erstwhile ‘partner’ will get a kick out of your latest little crush, eh, hikari?”

With that, Melvin strode away, even the back of his spiky head looking smug, leaving a stunned Marik to slowly join the three teens at the spin the bottle station.

“Why aren’t we all protesting the gender ratio?” Bakura muttered lowly as Marik arrived.

“For one,” Téa whispered back under the corner of her mouth, “Mokuba is scary. And two, somehow most of the guys here ended up being really gay.”

Marik looked like he might have wanted to protest, but the words died on his lips and he was forced to shrug. What could he say? The girl was right.

Just beyond them were Duke and Serenity at the Twister station, the sight of which caused Tristan to rush over in case Duke tried to pull a move.

Odion had left shortly before for some reason of his own and Mokuba was too busy organizing (and young) to participate, so they were two people short of full capacity.

The games began a great deal more competitively than planned. Even besides carrying out old grudges and showing off for friends and crushes, the prizes served to exhort the contestants to greater effort. The prizes were mostly expensive and/or exclusive Kaiba Corp merchandise, including such gems as a ten foot tall statue of the winner’s favorite monster, and the new, unreleased Kaiba Corp duel disk.

The strip version of duel monsters started with all contestants tallying up their life points based on their clothing. Yami and Yugi had dressed identically in terms of items, so each was left with 2400 life points. Ryou and Melvin were far less evenly matched, the paler boy ending up with only 1200, while a gleeful Melvin pulled in a whopping 3600, having worn all his usual jewelry and a cloak. He let Ryou go first though, as even he wasn’t that monstrously unfair. 

Yami and Yugi’s duel was already underway by the time Ryou helped Melvin finish up the simple addition, and Yami was already down by both of his shoes and a sock by the time the other pair started.

With Melvin’s torture deck and Ryou’s occult one, their duel took a hard left towards the macabre almost instantly. Ryou’s first turn forced Melvin down to 3000 points in short order. Melvin was all set to remove some bracelets when something occurred to him. Grinning madly, he removed his pants.

Ryou looked on in horror and bafflement. “Why—why are you taking off your pants Melvin? You could just take off three pieces of jewelry!”

Melvin’s smile widened, savoring his obvious victory. “Because, dear Ryou, I am very comfortable with my body, while you are not! My plan is FOOLPROOF! You cannot defeat the enemy you cannot—or will not—see!”

This speech might have sounded very silly indeed if Ryou hadn’t been staring desperately at the ceiling in an attempt to avoid looking at his pantsless opponent, not that it didn’t sound silly either way.

Eventually, they resumed their game, though Ryou’s face remained the shade of red usually reserved for firetrucks and stop signs. 

Over in the twister area, Duke was shamelessly abusing his sex appeal to win. Actually, his sex appeal had little to do with it. All he really needed to abuse in order to win was Tristan’s paranoia and Serenity’s kind nature.

Whenever the three ended up in a perilously contorted position, he’d pull a ridiculously suggestive line on Serenity. Key examples included ‘come here often’ to Serenity, whose head was between his legs at the time, and ‘here, let me help you’ followed by a hand that spent less time guiding Serenity’s leg to the correct spot than gliding up it.

Tristan, predictably, would begin to shake with rage and lose his concentration, and would be out in a matter of seconds. Duke would ‘assist’ him down, then call out a concerned plea for Tristan to be okay. If he sounded serious enough—and Duke Devlin was a phenomenal actor—Serenity would be worried enough to lose her balance. While it did guarantee the dice king victory, his plan hinged on Joey being distracted.

Which, fortunately, he was. The two boys were watching their names going into the hat in attitudes of grotesque concentration, while the two older women appeared mostly unconcerned. The best thing about seven minutes in heaven was that nothing sexual had to happen.

This first draw had produced Joey’s name, and now the unfortunate boy was reaching in to draw his partner’s name. Wincing, he withdrew a piece of paper held gingerly between his thumb and forefinger.

Joey opened one eye slowly, peering at the slip of paper he held.

“Mai,” Joey announced, looking torn between joy and horror, leaving an amused Mai to haul him to his feet and shove him into the closet.

“Hit the timer,” she ordered, before following him in and slamming the door briskly. Unfortunately for the two of them, the closet was a great deal smaller than it looked.   
“You’d think that asshole would be able to afford larger closets,” Joey muttered resentfully. His voice carried, and soon Seto responded dryly.

“Blame Mokuba, not me. And this is by far the smallest closet in my mansion, mutt.”

Mai groaned and slapped a hand over Joey’s mouth, even less tolerant of his bickering at such close quarters. Unfortunately for Joey, she missed his hand in the dark and ended up just plain slapping him. Those outside the closet grew steadily more and more amused, until they ended up clutching their mouths and sputtering.

“Oww, Mai! What was that for?”

“It wasn’t on purpose, genius, but if it shuts you up, I’m not complaining. Now move back, I’m being crushed!” Her complaint was followed by a crashing sound and several inarticulate complaints from Joey, then abrupt silence.

“Mai…”

“Yes Joey?”

“What’s this?”

“It’s my breast you idiot. You’d know if you’d ever touched one before.”

“Hey!” Joey cried indignantly. Mai didn’t condescend to offer a response until Seto called out, “Thirty seconds, you two.”

The two scrambled upright again within the darkness of the closet.

“Joey, you’re squishing me again. Move!” Another crashing sound, and something heavy impacted the door… right as Ishizu opened it.

Joey and Mai came flying out, past a stunned Ishizu, and impacted the floor with Mai’s chest shoved into Joey’s face. Joey screamed and flailed, then proceeded to shove Mai off just as Ishizu came to the rescue. This freed Joey, but left him to face a laughing Seto and the two women glaring fiercely at him from their tangled heap on the floor.

At the spin the bottle station, the three participants looked at each other questioningly. 

“Only three players,” complained Téa, “so there’s only three ways this can go. Oh well, better odds for us. I’ll spin first.” True to her word, the brunette reached down and gave the bottle a brisk spin. 

Bakura and Marik watched resignedly. Téa didn’t want to kiss either of them, and they reciprocated, so there wasn’t much awkwardness to go around. When the bottle finally stopped on Bakura, the two selectees shrugged and kissed briefly and lightly. 

The most surprising thing their kiss ignited was a strange, warm feeling in the pit of Marik’s stomach. It wasn’t jealousy—the kiss was very obviously from necessity—but a fluttering and a distinct desire to be in Téa’s place. Though obviously, Marik thought, if he were kissing Bakura it wouldn’t be that practical contact of lips the spirit was currently sharing with the girl. 

His slight blush and out-of-it expression didn’t escape Bakura’s notice for an instant. Obviously, there were too many explanations to draw any kind of real conclusion from Marik’s behavior, but it gave Bakura a semblance of hope. He was all too aware that he was an insensitive, emotionally void asshole inhabiting the body of a skinny, pale teenager. But hey, maybe Marik’s daddy issues were extensive enough for it to work out.

Shaking his head to clear out the thought, which was foul and repulsive even for him, Bakura seized the bottle. 

“My turn. Fifty-fifty odds, kiddies, so pucker up.” Both Marik at Téa glared at him for that, but Bakura merely grinned at them and spun the bottle wildly.

Honestly, he was hoping it was Téa again. Yeah, he liked Marik, but that only made it more complicated. Kissing him like this would feel like both cheating and taking advantage of him.

His luck held, and Téa grudgingly locked lips with him again, then seized the bottle and gave it a neat spin. It landed on Marik, who narrowed his eyes, then swiftly crossed the distance between himself and Téa and pressed their lips together briefly before withdrawing to a safe distance.

Bakura raised his eyes but offered no comment, passing the bottle to Marik just as Mokuba mounted the dueling arena clutching his megaphone.

“Attention party guests! Everyone take one last turn, then winners can come up here to register for prizes. After that, everyone go to a new station.”

Bakura rolled his eyes, realizing it must meant that the actual duels had finished. Unbelievable, he thought disgustedly, my hikari couldn’t even stand up this long against Melvin.

Sighing, he turned back to the game, only to find himself face to face with Marik. Eyes widening comically, Bakura glanced to the side and caught the sight of the bottle facing him. Oh, he thought rather anticlimactically.

Marik’s head tilted slowly to the side, and his violet gaze was almost dispassionate, locked onto Bakura’s with an intensity that kept the thief from moving and inch. Then, suddenly, Marik’s eyes closed and he leaned in so quickly that Bakura couldn’t even flinch before he felt soft lips on his own. Hesitantly, Marik applied a bit more pressure, then abruptly pulled away.

Bakura was left leaning after him, eyes wide in shock. Marik’s expression suddenly closed off, and the Egyptian stood smoothly and walked off. Téa, as the player most often chosen, strode off to claim her prize.

What the hell just happened? Shaking his head, Bakura made his absentminded way to the recently vacated seven minutes in heaven station, then plopped down, determined to figure out what Marik had been doing.

Ryou moaned softly, leaning into Melvin’s shoulder.

“So...much...skin…” he mumbled. Melvin chuckled and ran a hand through the boy’s hair. Melvin had continued his strategy of removing as much clothing as possible, leaving Ryou struggling to avoid seeing him from the neck down. 

“Such a prude,” said the yami, tsking and shaking his shaggy head. “We’re both guys, and my boxers stayed on.”

“Only because it was against the rules,” Ryou hissed, neither forgetting nor forgiving.

“Please, you know you wanted to see!” Melvin scoffed. Besides the attempted nudity, their game had been characterized by a great many jokes and attempts to outdo each other in terms of horror. Melvin won more through his superior lifepoints than any real desire to win.

Ryou smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Eww, Melvin! I did not! And it’s not like I saw anything.”

Melvin smirked wickedly. “Your loss, buddy. Marik is pretty and all, but when comes to flat-out hot, I really—Ouch! Leggo!”

In a desperate attempt to shut Melvin up, Ryou had bitten his arm, utilizing his unusually sharp canines to all but puncture the skin. When he finally did let go, he was understandably smug, having reduced the most sadistic, psychopathic villain in the room to pouting.

Ryou was normally quite timid, but somehow, he had never felt much fear of Melvin. A lot of it came from years of tolerance build up by Bakura, but Marik’s dark side had simply never seemed an intrinsic threat to Ryou. Just for biting him, Melvin could have stabbed or punched or banished Ryou to the Shadow Realm, but neither of them even considered it.

At the twister mat, Mai and Ishizu were chatting amiably, awaiting more participants. They had begun talking about Joey’s idiotic antics, and as the only females of their age group, they had a great deal more in common with each other than anyone else in the room.

Stereotypically enough, they had been discussing Ishizu’s traditional Egyptian dress and planning on having a sleepover in the near future when Yami and Yugi showed up. Strangely enough, the Pharaoh appeared to be performing a dorky “victory dance”. As he had been doing this for at least five minutes, Yugi was sick of it. Finally, the boy snapped.

“YAMI!” He practically screamed into Atem’s ear.

“Yes, aibou?” The taller boy demanded eagerly, sensing another chance to gloat.

“I let you win.”

“What?!”

“I. Let. You. Win.” Yugi looked surprisingly like his darker half when angry, and you could practically hear the hiss as Yami’s ego deflated.

“I had the dark magician and the swords of revealing light,” admitted Yugi. Yami, recalling their final setup, realized what Yugi was saying; he could have won at any time, but had chosen not to. Rage, hurt, and disappointment warred on Yami’s face, finally spilling forth in an incoherent rant.

“You—I—I’m the king of games! Why? You! But I—magician girl! What? No one lets win me! Lie is you! Lie is you! You snacking son of a kuriboh! You insufferable short little—” The look on Yami’s face said he wouldn’t be stopping for a very long time.

As soon as the dueling arena was open, Joey and Seto skidded to a halt by one end of it, glaring fiercely and cracking their knuckles in preparation. 

“You’re going down this time, asshole!”

“Just try it, Wheeler. I think the end of the day will see you back in the doghouse-”

The two continued trading insults, not even noticing Téa and Duke, who stood behind them, wincing at their terrible puns. Even Seto was starting to run out of ways to spin his ‘Joey is a dog’ thing. All in all, the two were corny and predictable, both absolutely convinced that the best way to triumph over their enemy was to force them to strip via card game.

Duke had managed to coax Téa into trying a game with him. She didn’t harbor any illusions about her chances against Duke, but the prizes didn’t hold much allure for her, and Duke was her only friend not currently acting like a lovesick idiot. Because of that, the two had become much closer in their mutual avoidance of entanglement in their friends’ love lives.

Over at seven minutes in heaven, Bakura had been joined by Tristan and Serenity. The two were obviously dancing around their mutual attraction, which left Bakura with time to think. 

That kiss obviously meant something, Bakura thought. But what? I couldn’t tell. He could have been curious, or trying to manipulate me. Maybe it was a dare, or…

His train of thought was interrupted by Tristan, who was eager to start the game. He drew Serenity’s name, and the two were quick to enter the closet. Bakura conveniently forgot to start the timer, not in the mood for a game and figuring he was doing the two of them a favor anyway.

Melvin and Ryou had lagged behind the crowd, and ended up stuck at spin the bottle with Marik, who, though he had just been there, refused to take the alternative of going to seven minutes in heaven, where Bakura was.

The three glanced at each other somewhat awkwardly. Melvin and Marik had no problems kissing, being in many ways the same person, but Ryou obviously felt uncomfortable. Melvin, on the other hand, was fairly enthusiastic about the idea. Marik had known for a long time that his yami liked the shy British boy. Heck, everyone probably did. Melvin was just about the least subtle thing to walk the earth.

Marik himself was in a terrible mood. Melvin’s goddamn drugs just had to kick in right then. Nausea, lightheadedness, loss of self-control. Could be anything.

His reverie was shattered by a firm hand gripping his chin. Eyes snapping up to meet Melvin’s, Marik glared as they kissed. Trust Melvin to start the game without his consent!

The minute the two separated, Marik deliberately wiped his mouth in disgust. Melvin was unperturbed, merely passing his lighter half the bottle. Tossing his head contemptuously, Marik spun the bottle violently. It clattered across the floor, finally skidding to a stop pointing at Ryou, who made a gurgling noise and scooted away.  
Normally, Marik was quite fond of Ryou, but he was not in any kind of mood to tolerate resistance. He crouched in front of Ryou.

“Look, it’s not a big deal. I don’t like you like that, you don’t like me like that. Our lips are going to make contact, okay? Seriously, Ryou, there’s no need to feel weird.”

Slowly, Ryou looked up and nodded. Marik leaned forward and brushed his lips across Ryou’s. It felt...weird. Like his brain knew that kissing+white hair+pale skin+British accent ≠ Ryou.

“There,” he announced, leaning back to a safe distance, “all done. Your turn.” Ryou was taking it surprisingly well, his blush subsiding even as he calmly flicked the bottle.

True to the odds, it stopped on Melvin, who didn’t even bother trying to conceal his interest. Ryou, an open book as always, was caught between excitement and apprehension. 

“I’m not doing this because of the game,” Melvin warned. The minute the words left his mouth, Ryou looked like he might faint. Shit, thought Melvin, that might have been a little bit too blunt.

Ryou indulged in some deep breathing, then recovered admirably. His first order of business was both enabling the kiss and covering his ass, something he was particularly good at.

“I—I didn’t know you felt that way, Melvin. The game does require us to kiss, but don’t take it personally.”

This speech had a great deal less effect on Melvin than Ryou had intended, likely because he had been steadily drifting towards the yami the whole time. Melvin, as overconfident as he was, had no doubt that Ryou’s words were just a façade, and that the smaller boy would come around fairly soon.

Marik was forced to watch disgustedly as the two kissed. They weren’t full-on making out, but it was a close thing, and it lasted for a while. Eventually, he just started heckling them.

“Get a room! Get out of the closet! De Nile is more than just a river in Egypt! Ryou looks like a girl! Melvin rapes puppies! I like Bakura as more than a friend!”

When that last failed to garner any reaction, Marik realized they were well and truly out of it, and returned to sulking about being drugged and probably ruining his friendship with Bakura.

At the strip duel monsters arena, Joey and Seto were locked into a fierce battle of wills. Seto had made some jibe about Joey acting like a girl about undressing, so now Joey was wearing everything but his shirt and pants, while Seto had lost his belt, trench coat, and shirt. Each turn took several minutes, as they were too busy glaring at each other to notice when it was their move.

Téa and Duke’s match, on the other hand, was so relaxed as to not qualify as a match at all. Duke was mostly giving Téa pointers, and they both had their hands set out in front of them, fully visible. They had also grabbed some cookies from the snack tables, so it was more like a tea party than a duel.

The twister game, by comparison, was becoming quite intense. Mai and Ishizu had both tied their hair back, and Yugi and Yami had removed their puzzles. Mai was literally bent over backwards, her lower back resting on a protesting Ishizu’s stomach. Ishizu’s leg was threaded through Yugi’s arms and Yami’s legs, and Yugi was lying on Yami, as his limbs barely reached the floor. Every movement caused all four of them to sway dramatically. The spinner, being a device in the Kaiba household, was holographic and fully automatic.

“Aye-shee-zoo,” the metallic voice droned, “right leg to blue.”

Panting and read in the face, Ishizu complied, bringing her face to face with Mai, who groaned as Ishizu began bearing less of her weight. “I had no idea twister got this competitive.”

“Me...neither…” Ishizu grunted. “But I...am...not..losing.”

“Yami, left arm to green,” the benighted machine warbled. Yami glared at it, regretting that he didn’t have his puzzle and thus could not send the demonic device to the Shadow Realm.

The minute Yami lifted a hand to move it, he was doomed. The maneuver would require him to cross his left arm behind his head, and after so long in that position, he couldn’t bear both his and Yugi’s weight on one arm. He collapsed dramatically and without warning, hoping to at least take someone with him. Unfortunately, Yugi caught himself, and Mai and Ishizu were unaffected.

The games had taken far longer than Mokuba had expected, and everyone was looking tired and a bit harassed. Rolling his eyes, he yanked out his megaphone and called a halt. Duke ended up winning, his ‘creative playing’ having payed off.

Everyone else was merely relieved to have escaped with pride intact, and were happy to settle down for a movie. For some reason, Mokuba had chosen a Christmas-themed horror movie instead of something sane, but no one complained. Tristan, in fact, made a mental note to thank Mokuba later. Serenity was deathly afraid of horror movies, and had asked to hold his hand.

In actuality, Serenity, having been mostly raised by Joey, was capable of falling into a dreamless sleep during the most gruesome of horror movies, but she saw no reason to mention that just when she had convinced her crush to hold her hand.

All the couches were miniature models that seated two, and there were just enough for everyone, courtesy of Mokuba. Seto and Joey had claimed one so as to argue more effectively, and Duke and Téa were curled up on one with popcorn.

Mai and Ishizu were slumping tiredly against each other in the back row, and beside them Yugi and Yami slouched comfortably. Melvin had dragged Ryou to seats in the front almost instantly, and Ryou was currently trying to pretend his lying on Melvin was completely accidental.

This, unfortunately for them, left Marik and Bakura sharing a couch. The two were pressed against opposite ends of the couch, looking in opposite directions, Bakura resisting the urge to take just one peek and then maybe beat the truth out of Marik, Marik resisting the new onslaught of feelings whatever he had been drugged was creating. The nausea and lightheadedness were back, and he was feeling less and less mastery over his urges with every moment.

The movie began quietly enough, if you interpret ‘quietly enough’ as meaning ‘seventeen people are hideously murdered by a burn victim in a santa suit’. Half an hour in, the stress was beginning to tell. Tristan had got an arm around Serenity’s shoulders, and she was doing her best to quake and shiver realistically. Joey’s bruising grip was clamped around Seto’s upper arm, and he squeezed painfully tight every time the killer jumped out from behind something. Seto, oddly enough, had remained quiet and allowed Joey the use of his arm.

Duke and Téa were shamelessly clutching one another, releasing a collective squeal every so often. Both were admitted pansies when it came to horror movies. Melvin and Ryou, meanwhile, were practically drooling over the film. Ryou let out a delighted, breathy little noise whenever the killer appeared from out of nowhere, and Melvin’s sadistic grin at the fantastic level of bloodshed was accentuated by his deep, rich chuckles.

Yami and Yugi were sitting side by side, jaws mid-drop and eyes glazed and staring. With Grampa’s overprotective ways, neither had seen anything remotely like this. Beside them, Mai and Ishizu were clinging to each other’s arms and sharing some brownies.

Marik and Bakura, however, both looked just plain bored. They had relaxed, and were now sprawled comfortably over the couch. Neither found the movie particularly engrossing, and Marik was busy rationalizing his urge to make out with Bakura.

Finally, after more than two hours, something snapped. A wave of heat washed over Marik, and negative consequences suddenly winked out of existence. The next thing Bakura knew, he couldn’t see the screen, and something warm was stretched across his lap. When his head snapped up in bewilderment, he found himself eye to eye with Marik.

“Marik?” He demanded. “What are you—mmph!”

Bakura was a big fan of seeking answers, forcing explorations, dragging forth the truth, but he also had an excellent sense of timing. Marik kissing him was his brain’s clue to relinquish control to another organ entirely, and so the spirit decided that explanations could wait until after the making out was finished.

At this point, it could definitely be called making out, and Bakura’s arms automatically stretched out, one wrapping around Marik’s waist and the other sliding into his sandy blond hair.

When they finally broke apart, any objections Bakura might have had to Marik’s bizarre behavior had entirely vanished. Marik’s face was still close, and Bakura could see every fleck in his violet eyes as the boy leaned closer, his breath warm on Bakura’s ear.

“You kissed back,” he said breathily, “does that mean Melvin got to you too?”  
It took a dazed Bakura a moment to process the words, but once he understood, he frowned, experiencing a sinking feeling.

“What do you mean ‘got to me’?” Bakura asked warily.

Marik moved in for another kiss, but Bakura stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“What did you mean?” Bakura repeated, his tone cool and dangerous. Marik, oblivious to the threatening edge to his voice, answered with a pout at Bakura’s recalcitrance.

“I mean, did he drug you too?” Shrugging the matter off as of little importance, Marik moved in on Bakura again, only to find him completely unresponsive.

“Bakura, what’s go-” Marik was cut off as Bakura shoved him off, onto the ground, then stormed off, looking murderous.

Marik stood up, unnoticed among the throng of people standing up around him. The movie must have ended, he supposed, but most of his attention remained focused on Bakura’s retreating back as the angry spirit seized Ryou roughly and dragged him off in the middle of his polite goodbyes, which Ryou continued shouting from across the hall.

Marik was still sitting there, hurt and confused, when Melvin and Ishizu came to fetch him. He didn’t say a word to either of them, and while Ishizu put a comforting hand on his shoulder, neither pressed the issue.

After the Ryou, Bakura, and the Ishtars left, Yugi and his friends were quick to leave after appropriately thanking the Kaibas. Mokuba was satisfied, smug, and up far past his bedtime, while Seto was occupying the thin line between satisfaction and near-aneurysm.

The party had, unmistakably, gone well, and almost everyone involved had some arrangement to meet with a fellow guest the following day, despite the next day being Christmas Eve.

Mokuba sidled up to his unusually pensive brother as the massive cleanup effort continued around them.

“So, Seto, get to spend any quality time with your little puppy?” 

Seto smiled, looking affectionate and slightly amused, and reached down to ruffle Mokuba’s hair.

“We had an amusing duel. I won, of course. And he spent the entire movie grabbing my arm. Funny thing, I could swear he mentioned loving horror movies when we first met.” 

Mokuba grinned impishly. “Really? Jo-ey and Se-to sittin’ in a tree-” The youngest Kaiba stopped just in time to duck a mock blow from Seto. He had been teasing Seto about his crush for weeks, as was his duty as a younger brother.

Seto had always been open with Mokuba, often more open than his age warranted, and his brother had been the first to know when Seto found himself falling for a certain blond mutt.

Smiling, the young CEO allowed himself to relax and savor an evening spent with his crush during the holiday season. 

—————————————————-

 

Morning in the Ishtar household began normally to all appearances, but there were a few key differences. Ishizu was chatting cheerfully with Mai on the phone while cooking, the normally serious young woman laughing and running her hand through her hair absentmindedly.

Melvin seemed much more awake than usual for eight in the morning, and his hair, though wild as ever, appeared combed. Marik, on the other hand, had not left his room at all since they had returned from the party.

At 8:30, Ishizu hung up and turned to Melvin with a grin still on her face. “Melvin, can you please go wake up Marik? It’s weird for him to sleep this late.”

Melvin nodded and ascended the stairs. Why was Marik so pissy? Melvin had seen him making out with Bakura. Heck, he’d been expecting gratitude.

As he walked past his open door to get to Marik’s room, he noticed his window was open. Frowning, he stepped inside. I could have sworn I closed that…

The instant he stepped inside, the door slammed after him, he was shoved against the wall, and a large hunting knife embedded itself in the wall beside his head. Grinning, Melvin found himself face to face with a pissed off Bakura.

“So predictable, binky-boy. I knew you’d come.” 

Bakura, unfortunately, was not in the mood for clever dialogue. 

“You absolute bastard. What the hell were you trying to pull? And while we’re at it, which limbs do you think you’d miss the most?”

Melvin chuckled and settled himself more comfortably against the wall. “Really, Bakura, I’d been expecting thanks. Unless, of course, I misread the signs and it hasn’t been Marik you’ve been staring at for quite some—”

“Save it. You drugged him, which even besides making it some kind of nonconsensual, is disgusting. Think he’ll still want to be friends after I took advantage of him while he was drugged?”

Melvin merely laughed again, though he stopped after feeling a second blade digging into his stomach.

“Don’t be so uptight, Bakura. You see—I lied.”

“What the bloody hell do you mean by that?”

Melvin reached down and pushed the knife away from his skin.

“Turns out, hikari dearest is a bit of an idiot. I never drugged him at all.” Seeing Bakura’s thunderstruck expression, Melvin continued smugly. “I sprinkled some sugar in the punch so there would be witnesses, but that turned out to be unnecessary. I’d managed to convince Marik I’ve been stealing drugs for a while now, and he’s easily suggestible. Note that Téa drank twice as much punch as he did, and she’s fine.”

Bakura blinked, then spoke slowly. “So...everything he did he...wanted to do, on some level.”

“Given the excuse of being drugged, his inhibitions plunged. He’s liked you for a while you know, you’re both just too stupid to admit it.”

Bakura ran a hand through his hair, trying to process this new development. 

“So I like him, and he…”

“Likes you enough that he’s currently sulking in his room about ‘ruining your friendship’. His room, by the way, is two doors down the hall. Now shoo along, I’ll tell Ishizu Marik won’t be down for breakfast. And by the way, Merry Christmas, you ungrateful bastard.”

This last he was forced to call after Bakura, as the white-haired teen was already racing down the hall, leaving only a giant hole in Melvin’s wall.

“This one’s going to be hard to explain to Ishizu.” He noted resentfully.

Meanwhile, down the hall, Bakura stopped short at Marik’s door and began hammering on it.

“Open up!” He called, “Or the door comes down!” 

By then, Marik knew when Bakura was issuing an empty threat, and this was certainly not one of those times. Fearing for the integrity of his room, he opened the door and proceeded to occupy the entire doorway, a stoic expression on his face.

At about the time this happened, Bakura realized he had never planned out what to say. Deciding that crippling bluntness hadn’t failed him quite enough, he launched ahead into what was probably the least romantic thing he could have said.

“You’re a girly, slutty moron. Melvin only pretended to drug the punch. Téa drank tons of it, and nothing happened to her. That means you wanted to make out with me, so ha! By the way, I might reciprocate whatever stupid mushy feelings you happened to be feeling during said making out.”

Marik stared at him strangely for a moment, then slammed the door, leaving Bakura standing outside wondering what he’d done wrong.

“Smooth, smooth.” Came a voice from behind him. Melvin stepped forward and shook his head condescendingly. “Bakura, I’ve always understood that you were never hugged as a child, but were you also dropped on your head?”

Bakura glared silently, refusing to bite. Melvin sighed. “You just made a complete ass of yourself, good for you. Unfortunately, I feel some vague sense of responsibility for the absolute train wreck called Marik’s love life, so…”

He stepped forward and rapped authoritatively on the door. The silence from within the room was almost palpable, even through the door.

“Marik,” Melvin called in exasperation, “Bakura likes you. If I thought he was lying I wouldn’t have tried anything. You like him back, obviously, so get your effeminate ass out here and make out—er, nice. Make nice.”

The two yamis waited in silence for a moment, then Marik’s chilly voice rang out. “Fuck you, okay? I’m going to get you for what you did.” He sounded like he meant it too, enough so that even Melvin backed up a few steps in trepidation.

The doorknob turned, and Marik stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “Is there something you wanted to say?” He demanded frostily.

Bakura cleared his throat and began more carefully. “You, um, got the part about not being drugged?” Marik’s head dipped fractionally, and Bakura continued nervously. “And the, the second part? The ‘I like you’ part? Because, well, I do. Apparently. And you, you like me? As more than a friend?”

Once again, Marik nodded, and his expression seemed to thaw a bit. He uncrossed his arms, and stepped forward. Bakura made his ‘happy smirk’.”

“Marik, if I kiss you, will you castrate me?” Marik bit his lip thoughtfully and shrugged.

“It could go either way at this point.”

Bakura shrugged in his turn. “Worth it.” He stepped forward and kissed Marik, and if he turned a bit so as to present a smaller target, Marik was willing to forgive it.  
“Aww,” Melvin cooed, “how swee—ugh! AGH!” The minute he had begun speaking, Marik had spun and kicked him solidly in the balls. 

The two left Melvin groaning and writhing on the floor and moved to the foot of the stairs. 

“He really did deserve that,” Marik explained. Bakura nodded. He had no arguments to the contrary.

“So, we’re...together?” Marik asked hopefully. Bakura made another happy smirk (he didn’t, as a rule, smile) and put an arm around Marik’s shoulders.

“Yup. And by the way, this decisively proves that you did want to make out with me.” 

Marik stared incredulously. “You’re still on that? Okay, I admit it. Yes, I did and continue to want to make out with you. Happy?”

Bakura was, in fact, happy. Seven minutes later, an irate Ishizu, storming around looking for her missing sibling and his alternate personality, came upon said sibling making out with a 3,000-year-old tomb robber. It was not a proud day for the Ishtar Clan. 

Odion was summoned by Ishizu’s screams, and managed to defuse the situation only slightly by reluctantly inviting Bakura to breakfast, where they were shortly joined by a resentful Melvin.

Both elder siblings threatened Bakura with certain death should he hurt Marik, with approving nods from Melvin. Ishizu, determined as she was, at last acknowledged that they couldn’t exactly keep Bakura out of the house or install security cameras in Marik’s room.

The five of them were still sitting there, glaring at each other, when the doorbell rang. Odion got up to answer it, and shortly he returned to the table with Ryou in tow. 

“Oh, sorry,” the boy apologized, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I was just looking for Bakura. He disappeared and I was worried he was bothering you.”

“Bullshit,” Bakura muttered, only for Melvin to elbow him angrily.


End file.
